[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
------
When he had compromised his dreams and...
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"You look so fucking gorgeous!" Priya squealed, spotting Krithika at a high table tucked away in the corner of the bar. "Damn, girl, you've got serious talent sewing a dress like that for yourself."
Krithika forced a nervous smile, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. She glanced down at her outfit—skin-tight and hugging every curve like it was painted on. She hadn't worn this dress in over a year, and putting it on had been nothing short of a struggle. That evening in her room she had practically tried to shove herself in the damned dress, her breast had cried out for help from the brutality slammed on them. But she had no other option, no other "party" dress that came even close.
She was overtly aware that each curve of her body was on display. At any other given time, it would have appeared to be obscene but in the dim light of the bar, it didn't matter much.
"Get rid of that hideous jacket," Priya tutted, reaching over and pushing the denim from Krithika's shoulders. "There. That's some hot stuff."
She had worn a jacket, trying to cover herself a little and Priya disapproved of her trials on being a 'proper lady'.
"I don't like wearing..." Krithika hesitated, glancing down at herself, "...tight clothes."
"Don't be such an aunty! You've got curves—flaunt them, girl!" Priya winked. "Youth is precious, don't waste it on being 'proper.'"
"I am surely not wasting anything.", Krithika frowned.
"Please! You so are," Priya replied, shoving a glass of amber liquid toward her. "And let me guess, Miss. Dashwood here has never actually had a proper drink, right?" She gave her a teasing grin, comparing Krithika to the prim-and-proper Elinor Dashwood.
"I've had a few sips in college... never really enjoyed it," Krithika admitted. The cheap liquor she'd tried back then had been harsh, bitter, and totally not worth the burn it left in her throat.
Priya's eyes sparkled with determination. "Well, we're about to change that." She turned to the bartender and whispered something. A few seconds later, he returned with a sleek, stylish glass. "Blanco Margarita for the lady," he said, flashing Krithika a grin, which Priya returned with a playful smirk.
"I'm not sure about the drink, but the glass sure looks fancy," Krithika shrugged. She took a tentative sip; the alcohol burned a hot trail down her throat, but after a few seconds, she felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. She found herself actually enjoying the taste. She glanced at Priya, who wore a smug grin, practically glowing with victory.
